Progeny
by JackOwens1860
Summary: Batman and Robin, Bruce and Damian,are still finding their feet as a team. When a new opportunity to wrestle control back from the criminal element presents itself, will they work together or not at all? Damian's POV


**Progeny**

My father's tactics are flawed. In our current situation – surrounded by roughly eighteen lowlife thugs – we should offer an offensive stance and intimidate our enemies. My father only presents a defensive posture and I can only follow his lead. If I do not, we will both be killed in moments. There will be a reason for his reluctance. He is The Batman after all; there is always logic to his actions.Still, I am disappointed. When he detonates a palm-sized CS gas grenade, using his fist as it connects with a degenerate, I see his logic. The gas is fast-dispersing and soon encompasses everything in a twenty metre range. His tactic to draw them in by feigning indecision is technically sound; our enemies are immediately overcome by the harsh, choking effect of the gas. We proceed to incapacitate them handily. To appease my father, I use the nerve strikes and non-lethal techniques he has taught me. These people are scum. They hurt innocent civilians. They feel no remorse for those they kill. If I wanted I could eradicate them all. Eighteen less dirt bags for the city to worry about. But my father will not permit such clinical measures; he prefers a mess. As we hand them over to Gordon and his incompetent police force, I am again disappointed with my father.

"The narcotics trade is at a virtual standstill in Gotham as of tonight. We have made significant inroads into eliminating the problem altogether. It has been a good night."

My father's 'pep rally' is absurd. We will NEVER eliminate drugs in this corrupt rat-hole; it's just too lucrative for criminals to ignore. I do not tell him this. I lost interest in his unfounded jabbering as soon as we got into the car. I look for my iPod. I must have forgotten it when packing for patrol. I make a mental note to never leave it behind again lest I wish to listen to more moral drivel. He is so very disappointing.

"Damian?" He asks abruptly after a twenty-minute silence. I dread it when the old man speaks my name; it always precedes some long-winded speech concerning my attitude and his 'perfect' approach to fighting crime.

"Yes?"

"You almost forgot this back at the cave." He drops my iPod in my lap. I am...grateful for his attention in regards to my preferences. I nod without looking at him.

"Thank you father." I reply, already in the process of sticking the ear-buds in and scrolling through the songs.

"You performed very well tonight. I am proud of you." I hear my father tell me. His praise and this gesture are unusual occurrences. I am...pleased with him. My disappointment has been blunted as a consequence. I do not give a reply to his praise. I just let the music wash over me and drown the outside world.

I do not care much for Pennyworth. His persistent presence and overbearing nature irritate me. I also find his surgery skills to be second-rate at best. It is only because I have yet to master the skill set required to tend to my own injuries that I let him touch me. According to the butler's appraisal of my body, I have sustained two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. I do not feel these discomforts. My father stands close-by. I can sense his concern as Pennyworth bandages my abdomen and puts my shoulder back in place. The pain is minimal.

"Are we finished here, Alfred?" I say to earn a scornful look from both the servant and my father.

"Damian, you will—"

"It is quite alright, Master Bruce." Pennyworth interrupts my father's imminent lecture with impeccable timing. I wonder if he too is tired of my father's sermonising. He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. His eyes are kind. "How do you feel, young man; 100% or 200%?" The butler knows my mood well. These pathetic wounds will not hinder me in any way. I smile at him.

"I do not feel worse. Your 'treatment' was not catastrophic so well done, Pennyworth: an admirable job." I reserve such praise for special occasions and the servant should consider himself fortunate. His reaction of patting me on the shoulder leaves me feeling odd. I believe I like that particular gesture. My father remains looking displeased. I do not care and go to the training grounds on the lower levels.

Midnight has passed. I have only finished my training because of exhaustion. It is not my physical exhaustion but a lack of equipment; I have overcome all training and combat scenarios available. There is nothing left to test myself with...except my father. I already know this to be a test too far even for my superior skills and abilities; he is The Batman; I am only Robin...for the time being. My ribs burn slightly, but it is manageable. As I begin putting my swords back in the weapons cabinet, my father appears from his work. He waits until he has my full attention.

"Yes, father?" I say. My breathing is laboured; perhaps the injuries are more severe than first thought.

"Come here a moment. There is something I wish to give you." He is gesturing to the ground an inch away from where he is standing. As I approach, I am expecting another useless, sentimental keepsake from my grandfather to leap into his hands. I am tired of such garbage. I stop where he indicated I stop.

"What is my reward tonight, father?" I say without humour. The old man and I share that trait. What happens next is uncharacteristic for any strong role model I know of. My father holds me against his body and embraces me. I freeze at his actions. Batman, the world's greatest detective, is 'hugging' me. Grayson never tried such a display of weakness in my company. I am unsure what to do. I want to pull away. I don't want to pull away. I keep changing my mind. This sudden indecision is making me uncomfortable.

"Is Pennyworth still here?"

"No."

I do not wish the help to see what I am about to do. I reciprocate his actions. It feels unnatural but I do not give up. My father's physique makes it difficult for me to get my arms all the way around him. His lack of body fat also gives his body the texture of stone; it is not unlike embracing a statue. I still attempt to be nice. I suddenly feel very intimate with him for the first time in our relationship. I can hear his heart beating. I can sense his intake of breath. I am only ever in such a position when I intend to kill someone; I have never known affection of this sort. It is...satisfying. My father puts a hand on my head and strokes my hair. I am not used to these contacts, but they do not alarm me.

"I am very proud of you. Very proud indeed. You are a good boy." When he tells me these things without hesitancy or being coerced, I am concerned I may be simply hallucinating the whole event due to dehydration. I squeeze him tighter to confirm the situation's reality. This is really happening. My father is showing me affection I never thought him capable of. I do not wish this moment to pass. I believe, for the first time in my life, I am actually happy. I do not feel angry or unappreciated in this moment when my father holds me close. I feel loved...

The sensation is indescribable.

Eventually, the old man releases me. He runs the back of his hand down my cheek briefly. We both stand perfectly still. There must be a reason for his actions; there is logic to everything he does. He is The Batman.

"Did the butler put you up to this, father?" I would expect my father's reply to be one of frustration. His decision to smile instead disorientates me.

"That would be convenient wouldn't it?"

"Then why?"

"Because you are my son and I love you dearly."

I have no retort for such a bold statement. Again he has rendered me mute with his actions. Long minutes pass in deathly silence. I am unsure what to do now. I am fortunate my father is always thinking ahead; he speaks for me.

"Your help would be appreciated on this case. Will you assist me?"

My expression remains stoic as I respond. "So long as Pennyworth—"

"Alfred, Damian; please call him Alfred."

"So long as Alfred does not scold me in the morning for sleeping late."

"I am sure we can arrange that."


End file.
